Page 31 of Yasmin and the Yeti
His sister’s pendant rested against his chest, the familiar weight now a comfort rather than a burden. He imagined, for the first time without pain, what Ayla would think of his mate. She would have loved Yasmin, he knew. Would have delighted in her courage, her compassion.
Perhaps that was the final gift Yasmin had given him—the ability to remember Ayla with love instead of anguish. To honor her memory by living fully, rather than existing in the half-life of grief.
As sleep finally claimed him, his last conscious thought was a promise—to Yasmin, to himself, to the memory of his sister.
He would be worthy of this second chance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Yasmin woke to the gentle sound of Rhaal’s breathing beside her. The rhythm had become as familiar to her as her own heartbeat over these past few weeks. She stretched carefully, not wanting to disturb him. His massive arm lay draped across her waist, heavy but comforting in its weight.
Morning light ringed the hide covering the cave entrance, casting a warm glow over their shared space. What had once seemed alien and strange now felt like home. The carved stone bowls, the thick furs, the glowing crystals that provided soft light—all had become beloved fixtures of her new life.
She slipped quietly from beneath his arm. He stirred slightly, a low rumble escaping his chest, but didn’t wake. Even in sleep, his face held a peace that hadn’t been there when they first met. The permanent furrow between his brows had softened. The haunted look in his eyes appeared less frequently.
He rarely slept later than she did and she decided to surprise him by handling their morning routine by herself. She stoked the fire and prepared a simple breakfast of dried berries and the edible moss he’d taught her to harvest.
As she worked, a wave of dizziness washed over her. She steadied herself against the wall, waiting for it to pass. The dizzy spells had been happening more frequently over the past few days. At first, she’d attributed it to the rich meat in their diet, so different from what she’d eaten on Earth. But this morning, the sensation was accompanied by a faint nausea that lingered even after the dizziness faded.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, frowning. Something wasn’t right.
Or perhaps… something was exactly right.
The thought struck her with such force that she nearly dropped the carved bone spoon she was holding. She counted backward, trying to remember when she’d last had her period. Not since she’d arrived on Hothrest, and not on the ship, which meant…
“Oh,” she whispered, the sound barely audible even to her own ears.
She sank down onto one of the moss-covered stone seats, her legs suddenly unable to support her. Her hand remained pressed against her belly, as if she might feel something there—some confirmation of the life she now suspected was growing inside her.
A child. Rhaal’s child.
The thought should have terrified her. A human woman pregnant with an alien baby on a frozen planet light-years from Earth. Yet all she felt was a spreading warmth, a sense of rightness that defied logic. She loved him. And this child would be part of him, part of them both.
But was it even possible? Their species were so different she hadn’t even considered the possibility. What if something went wrong? There were no hospitals here, no doctors who understood human physiology.
The warmth in her chest cooled slightly, tempered by practical fears. She would need to see the clan healer, the one who had treated her frostbitten feet. But that would mean going to the clan caves, facing Broc and the others who viewed Rhaal with such mistrust. Would going there bring back his old demons?
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Rhaal had woken until his large hand settled gently on her shoulder.
“Yasmin?” His deep voice was thick with concern. He crouched before her, his glowing blue eyes searching her face. “You sick?”
His vocabulary had grown considerably, as had hers, but they still relied heavily on simple phrases and gestures. She shook her head, not ready to share her suspicion until she was more certain.
“Just thinking,” she said, placing her hand over his.
He didn’t look convinced but didn’t press further. Instead, he announced he would check the traps he’d set the previous day. Food stores were important with winter deepening.
After he left, she busied herself with chores, trying to distract herself from the suspicion that grew stronger with each passing hour. She cleaned, sorted through the dried herbs they used for seasoning, and worked on a small carving project—a necklace she was making for Rhaal from the soapstone he’d given her.
But her thoughts kept circling back to the possibility of pregnancy. By midday, she couldn’t deny it any longer. Allthe signs were there—the fatigue, the nausea, the missed cycle. She knew her body, and her body was telling her something momentous had happened.
She rehearsed what she would say when Rhaal returned. He had taught her the word for “cub,” which seemed to be what Hothians called their children. She practiced the phrase silently, wanting to get it right.
“Rhaal… I think… a cub.”
Simple, direct. Just like him.
The hours crawled by. She paced the cave, alternating between excitement and anxiety. What would he think? Would he be happy? Worried? She had no reference point for how Hothian males reacted to impending fatherhood.
